


It Began with the Tea

by Emma_Wolf



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Holiday Fic Exchange, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 20:42:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1240168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emma_Wolf/pseuds/Emma_Wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ruby and Jefferson meet and start to fall in love on a slightly-AU winter evening. The title and some of Jefferson's lines come from Alice in Wonderland and Through the Lookingglass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Began with the Tea

Ruby wasn’t the kind of girl that liked to curl up with a good book, but there was something particularly captivating about this story. It felt familiar, like an old friend. Like a half-remembered dream. Like déjà vu. Her unlikely friend Belle the bookworm had recommended it to her.

“There’s something about August Booth,” Belle had said as she pressed the book into Ruby’s hands. “He makes me feel like I’m living the story, not just reading it.”

Skeptically, Ruby had agreed to give the book a try.

She had fought with Granny again that morning. She couldn’t even remember why. One fight blurred into the next until they both forgot the reason why they were gritting their teeth around each other and refused to talk. And forgetting why you were mad made forgiveness hard.

So, with book in hand, Ruby didn’t head home after her shift at the diner but to her best friend Mary Margaret’s coffee shop down Main Street.

She pulled her coat around her tightly and shoved her hands under her armpits. Maybe Granny was right. Maybe she should dress more modestly. At least in the winter.

A warm fire was already blazing at Mary Margaret’s, giving the whole place the comforting smell that Ruby associated with the moments just before a snow storm. Ruby took off her coat, sat down in a tattered yet comfy armchair by the fireplace, and opened her book. She soon lost herself in Booth’s retelling of Snow White and Rose Red and her hot chocolate. A specialty of Mary Margaret’s, it was rich chocolate with a cinnamon kick. And whipped cream on top.

Belle had been right about Booth. But when she first described the book and his writing to Ruby, Ruby had pinned Booth as a Gregory Maguire wannabe—someone without two original ideas to rub together but somehow making a killing doing it. Fanfic masquerading as high literature. But Booth’s story read more like a memoir and less like an imitation, like he had been there watching the sisters and the ungrateful dwarf. He didn’t need to create fantastical details or set the story in an unusual place to make it new. His art came from realism. It made her feel connected to the sisters in a way no other writer could. She felt like she wasn’t reading an impersonal best seller but a letter from a pen pal, which in turn justified her surrender of her Saturday night.

For her friend Belle, curling up with a good book in front of a roaring fire would have been the perfect date. With her boyfriend on the chair next to her, of course. Her perfect for her boyfriend who shared her love of old things and knowledge. Even if he was a bit older and, in Ruby’s opinion, creepy.

Who was Ruby to judge? Her own boyfriend—ex-boyfriend, she reminded herself—was far from true love material. His idea of a perfect date was dinner and a movie. But after working in the diner for so long, Ruby didn’t think there was anything romantic about a kitchen in the weeds or stiffing a waitress because your soup wasn’t hot enough or they were all out of your favorite vegetable. Ruby’s idea of romance was spontaneity and not knowing what you were doing until you were doing it. Being impulsive, trying something new, or letting the world take you by surprise.

There wasn’t much surprise to be had in sleepy, old Storybrooke.

After a few pages of her book, Ruby felt eyes on her. She was tired of all the lechers in this small town who thought she was just something to look at. Granny would suggest that maybe if she wore more clothes, they wouldn’t stare, but Ruby knew better. The staring began before she started wearing tight shirts and short skirts. As though she herself were some sort of symbol of female sexuality, not the clothes she wore. She knew that even if she wore skirts to her knee, they would still stare. Until she covered her midriff. And her arms. And stopped wearing low-cut tops or makeup. Then maybe longer skirts that went down to her ankles and a hood over her long brown hair. They wouldn’t stop until she was like a nun in a convent. Which is what Granny wanted to turn her into, Ruby thought.

She groaned loudly. “Can’t a woman read a book in peace?” she muttered.

“And everyone lived happily ever after,” the lecher said. “Sorry, did I spoil the ending of the fairy tale you’re reading?”

Ruby set her book down in disgust. “That’s the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard.”

The lecher took it as an invitation. He picked up his belongings and sat in the chair next to her. “I’m Jefferson.”

“I know who you are,” she said coldly. It wasn’t true that in small towns everyone knew everyone. At least, not in Storybrooke. But Ruby still knew who Jefferson was, even if they’d never met. He was the mysterious man who lived up on the hill. Ruby rarely saw him come into town and never to the diner.

He smiled wryly. “It’s a small town, but I thought it’d be polite to make an introduction.”

She didn’t know why she did it. It wasn’t as though he was charming or debonair, and she still wanted to get back to her book. But she told him her name and shook his hand.

“I know who you are.”

Ruby raised one of her perfect eyebrows. What did he know about her? Granny had said that people talked about her. Did he think she tried to sleep her way down the East Coast, like Granny had accused?

But Jefferson didn’t elaborate. And he didn’t tell her that he saw her go jogging every day by his house. He didn’t tell her how beautiful he thought she looked, even in her sweat suit with her hair stuck to her face. He didn’t tell her that he saw her in the library too, helping Belle shelve books. Or in the coffee shop, listening to Mary Margaret talk about her woeful love life. He didn’t tell her that he sometimes watched her with his telescope in his home up on that lonely hill because she was such a beautiful and interesting person that he wanted to get to know. He just handed her one of the two mugs he was holding. “I ordered you a drink. It’s rooibos.”

“Roy what?” She looked at the mug hesitantly.

“Rooibos,” he repeated. “It’s a red tea. Its name means ‘red bush.’ I thought it would suit you.”

Red was her favorite color. “Thanks.” The tea was strong and just a little sweet.

Jefferson leaned back in his chair and opened up his bag. He pulled out a ball of yarn and a pair of knitting needles.

“Knitting?” Ruby almost laughed.

“Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it. I find it to be soothing. I can focus on the rhythm of the needles and let the world slip away.” He said this dreamily as though part of him were already slipping away. “Besides, it’s a great way to pick up chicks,” he added with a wink.

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m sure it sets women swooning seeing such a manly hobby.”

“Hey, knitting came from the mind of a brilliant fisherman who realized knitting a net would make a better way to catch fish.”

“And now done it’s by grannies the world over while they watch soap operas and drink,” Ruby looked at her mug with a dramatically puzzled expression. “What did you call this again, Granny?”

Jefferson enjoyed the bantering and smiled indulgently. Ruby returned to her book and Jefferson to his knitting until a gust of wind blew into the coffee shop and the bells above the door chimed, announcing someone’s entrance. Ruby heard his voice at the counter ordering his drink and cringed.

Jefferson noticed her distress. “What is it?”

“Billy,” she whispered. “My ex-boyfriend.”

Jefferson turned to see a young man leering at them. He looked jealous and the type to do something about it. “Does he know he’s your ex?”

“Not exactly,” she confessed. “He still thinks he has a shot.”

Jefferson stood up abruptly. “Let’s go then!”

“It’s too late. He already saw us,” she said, defeated.

“Nonsense!” Jefferson took Ruby’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “Go! I’ll create a diversion and meet you out back.”

Jefferson ran to a table where a man and woman were sitting with the awkwardness of a first date. “I want a clean cup!” he declared loudly. “Let’s all move one place on.” He pulled the man out of his chair and shoved him one seat over. Jefferson sat in the man’s seat, even going so far as to drink from the man’s used cup.

Ruby took a minute to laugh then ducked out the back door. She wondered if she shouldn’t just go home and apologize to Granny and finish her book. But thinking of Jefferson—of his willingness to make a fool out of himself just to take her by surprise—she smiled and paced the back parking lot, waiting for him to return.

“What’s got you so happy?” he asked as he appeared from behind the dumpster.

She gave him a broader smile. It was part warm and part suggestive. “I’m just wondering what now.”

“That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,” he said as he took her hand. “But you’re shivering!” He looked Ruby up and down. Not like the men who leered at her, but like one appraising her apparel for warmth. “You’re not dressed for these cold Maine winters. You don’t even have a hat.”

“I’m fine,” Ruby said, abruptly snatching her hand away. He was beginning to sound like Granny.

Jefferson went back into his bag and pulled out his knitting again. He made a few quick stitches then a snip. With a flourish, he presented it to her.

“What is it?”

“A hat, of course! It’s a hobby of mine, you know.” He placed the red beanie on her head. “Beautiful!”

Ruby smiled. “And my favorite color.”

“Of course.”

“How did you happen to have an almost-completed hat in my favorite color in your bag?”

He looked a little struck by her question, like he was finally forced into a moment of honesty. “I made it for you, Ruby.”

No one had ever made her a hat before. Even Granny.

“Thanks… I…”

Jefferson grabbed her hand again. “You were wondering where to go!” He started running down Main Street, pulling Ruby behind him, trying to avoid the awkwardness of his gift with spontaneity. “Faster, faster!” he cried, practically dragging her down the street.

He took Ruby to the mayor’s house. Even though he knew who she was and hated her, he had to admit her tree all lit up for the holiday in her front garden was beautiful to look at. It wasn’t an evergreen like you would find dressed up in any other town this time of year. Regina wouldn’t deign to be so ordinary. It was her old honey crisp apple tree, taken from her home in the Enchanted Forest, probably the only flora to come to Maine. Regina had decorated the tree with bright green lights and red baubles like fresh apples.

Jefferson gave a big sigh, making him look like a steam-breathing dragon. An overly- sentimental steam-breathing dragon.

Ruby smiled. “It is pretty magical.” She took his hand again, not just because it was warmer than hers.

Jefferson smiled at her choice of words but knew that Ruby didn’t know the truth of the tree or Storybrooke. He and Regina were the only ones who knew that yes, the tree really was enchanted to glow like an apple tree in full bloom.

He turned to Ruby. “We see it every year, but we rarely take the time to appreciate it.”

Ruby nodded, her eyes twinkling in the green light. She too had to admit the tree was beautiful even though she hated the mayor. Ruby had seen Granny too often on the wrong side of a new regulation or proposed zoning change. “Too bad the woman who lives there is a witch.”

Jefferson pretended to be scandalized. “Don’t let her hear you say that!”

Ruby smirked and swung Jefferson’s hand. “What’s she gonna do? Cast a spell on me?” With her free hand, Ruby made a gesture like sinister spirit fingers. “Wicked Queen Mills is out to get us!”

Jefferson laughed nervously.

Ruby dropped the act and looked into Jefferson’s clear blue eyes. “Thank you for taking me here, Jefferson. And for the hat and the tea. And for the perfect evening.” She rocked on her heels and looked up at Jefferson through her eyelashes.

This was the moment. In all the love stories Belle made her read, this was the moment that the two lovers kissed for the first time.

But Jefferson only smiled, seemingly oblivious to Ruby’s intent. “Come on, there’s something else we should see.”

He took off running again, Ruby’s hand still firmly in his. Down Main Street again, back the way they’d come. He led them past Mr. Gold’s shop and down the narrow lane that led to the toll bridge. He led them into the forest, leaping over tree roots and patches of ice.

“Where are we going?” Ruby asked breathlessly.

“We passed it ten minutes ago!” Jefferson answered with a laugh. He led them deeper into the woods where the trees grew taller and closer together. Where Ruby remembered hiking as a girl before Granny let her quit scouting.

And suddenly, he stopped. They were at the edge of what appeared to be a narrow clearing.

“Where are we?”

“Here. Everything’s just as it is,” he said cryptically.

He took a few steps into the clearing, kicking dead leaves and fallen branches out of his way as though he were looking for something. After a moment, he seemed to have found it. He took a few quick steps, threw his arms out, leaned forward with one leg stretched out behind him, and seemed to fly. He flew over to Ruby. “It’s frozen solid,” he said and stomped his foot on the ice as though to prove it to her. He held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

Ruby curtseyed and stepped out onto the frozen river. “But of course, good sir.” Uneasily, she skidded along the ice. Jefferson was more confident on his feet, so she let him lead her over the ice.

“Had I known, I would have brought my ice skates,” Ruby said as she threw her free arm in a circle, trying to catch her balance.

He grabbed her other arm and glided backwards over the ice gracefully, as though he wore born to ice skate in his sneakers. He took Ruby for a ride up the icy river, spinning her around him. “Where’s the fun in that? Where’s the fun in waking up each day and knowing what you’re doing?”

Ruby got dizzy. Her foot slipped, and she went off balance, tumbling to the ice. Jefferson caught her and gently lowered her until they were both laying down on the ice and fallen leaves. With their heads mere inches apart, they lay on the ice breathing steam and laughing at the cold.

He brushed a leaf out of Ruby’s hair and once again noticed the twinkling of her eyes, as though they had kept the light from the enchanted tree. “Twinkle twinkle eyes so green,” he said to himself, making it up as he went along. “How I wonder what they’ve seen. Emeralds in a lovely face.”

Stopping him mid-verse, Ruby leaned forward and kissed him. He kissed her back with a fervor that had been building all night, as though asking with its passion “what took you so long?”

“Isn’t this better than a night with a book and an ex-boyfriend?”

“I don’t know. Is it better than a night knitting?”

Jefferson was right. The world was more fun when you woke up each day not knowing what to expect. Just this morning she figured she would spend her day trying to avoid Granny’s disapproval and Billy’s aggressive advances. She never expected this ending. “How did this happen?” she asked, impressed by the marvel that was an ordinary winter night.

Jefferson smiled. He made himself comfortable on an elbow like he was about to start a long story. “Well, it began with the tea.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for PaperClipBitch on the OuaT Exchange on livejournal.


End file.
